Ukraine made the mistake of sentencing a number of Russian prisoners of war to prison, and lacking salt for the prisoners’ meals

Ukraine prisoners of war were returned to Ukraine by Russia, look quite good, healthy

(According to international press, and military.com)

Currently, the State of Ukraine has sentenced and imprisoned for many years a number of Russian prisoners of war captured by the Ukrainian side.

That’s a mistake, because:

-Prisoner Of War- is different from other prisoners. Soldiers go to war because they are ordered by their superiors, ordered by their State. If they did not participate in the war, they would be convicted by the State of desertion, fined, and imprisoned. Russian soldiers participating in the war of invasion of Ukraine, whether they like it or not, must obey Russian President Putin’s orders and cannot refuse.

-Second, the Ukrainian side also has soldiers captured by the Russian side, the Ukrainian side wants the Russian side to return them. If the Ukrainian side sentences Russian prisoners of war to many years in prisons, where get Russian prisoners of war be returned to Russia, in order to receive back Ukrainian prisoners of war returned by the Russian side?

– Third, what is the benefit of sentencing Russian prisoners of war? It had absolutely no deterrent effect on Russian soldiers are fighting in Ukraine, and at the same time cost money to feed and care for Russian prisoners of war. What a waste of Ukrainian taxpayers’ money.

For example, this is the story of a Russian POW soldier.

Mr. Trutnev, 33 years old, was the commander of the Russian invaders who had only been in Ukraine for more than a week when he was taken prisoner in July 2022.

He led a unit of 30 men and was ordered to occupy a hilltop in a local village where Ukrainian artillery could be located.

Stanislav Trutnev said in an interview with the Ukrainian newspaper Lviv Media that the mission was completed and that his platoon even took 10 Ukrainian soldier prisoner.

But Trutnev and his men failed to hold their position when a group of Ukrainian special forces attacked. The entire Russian army was forced to retreat, and during the battle, Lieutenant Trutnev, seriously wounded, was left behind.

On July 10, 2022, he was taken prisoner by Ukrainian troops.

He was one of many prisoners of war.

It is unclear how many prisoners of war there are on the Ukrainian and Russian sides. But the number is in the thousands.

As of February 2024, Russia and Ukraine have returned more than 2,000 prisoners to each other.

The United Nations has been granted access by the Government of Ukraine to Ukrainian POW camps located throughout Ukraine, and the International Red Cross regularly visits prisons holding Russian prisoners of war.

Ukrainian and international media are also allowed to visit any Ukrainian POW prison, whenever they want.

Therefore, the story that the Russian side often propagates that Russian prisoners of war in Ukraine had their legs and arms cut off and were tortured by the Ukrainian side is really a modern joke.

But similarly, the story that the Ukrainian side often propagates that Ukrainian prisoners of war captured by the Russian side are also mistreated, with their hands and feet chopped off, tortured with electric shock, etc., we must also consider carefully.

At least, by the end of January 2024, the Russian and Ukrainian sides had exchanged prisoners of war with each other, each side releasing about 200 people. The prisoners of war on both sides looked quite healthy and fat, proving that they were taken care of. and treated quite well, taken care of quite well by both Russia and Ukraine, not too bad.

 

Stanislav Trutnev served in the Russian Armed Forces. He has combat experience from Syria and is usually stationed at unit 69068 in Vidyaevo, a Northern Fleet town on the Kola Peninsula. He belongs to the elite force of the Russian Navy and is trained in underwater sabotage operations.

He argued that he was just fulfilling his duties in Ukraine.

“Over the years they have taught us one thing: you are a soldier, a warrior and you must live like a warrior. You don’t think about politics, economics, etc.,” he said in the interview.

He also explained that he felt no hate or discomfort towards the Ukrainian soldiers who took him prisoner. “On the contrary, I have a feeling of admiration. As a soldier, it was an interesting experience. Because it is a meeting between soldiers,” he said, expressing gratitude that he had been given “this additional opportunity in life.”

He was sentenced by the Ukrainian Court to 12 years in prison for war crimes!!!

Another story.

Forces from the Kola Peninsula took an active part in the full-scale attack on Ukraine on February 24, 2022. Among the attacking soldiers were Aleksandr Babykin and Aleksandr Ivanov. Both served in the 200th Mechanized Infantry Brigade in Pechenga, a base just a few kilometers from the Norwegian and Finnish borders.

When their convoy of trucks and armored vehicles was attacked by Ukrainian troops, the two men fled but were quickly taken prisoner.

A video recorded shortly after being detained by the Ukrainian military, shows Babykin blindfolded and in a highly tense state, describing his condition, trying to enter Ukraine and his unit’s mission .

Both Babykin and Ivanov were soon charged and sentenced to 11.5 years in prison in Ukraine for war crimes.

Most of the soldiers from the Kola Peninsula sent to Ukraine belonged to the 200th Motor Rifle Brigade, the 61st Naval Infantry Brigade and the 80th motorized rifle group.

Oleg Pyatykh was recruited by Wagner while serving an 11-year sentence at prison camp No. 16 in Murmashi. He had five years remaining in prison for illegal drug use when the men from Wagner appeared in prison in early November 2022.

He recalled in an interview that about 100 of the 400 local prisoners agreed to sign up for service.

They were all promised amnesty after six months and a salary of up to 200,000 rubles per month – about 2000 USD/month.

Pyatykh was an assault soldier armed with an AK-47 machine gun and was captured on December 23, 2022 in a trench near Bakhmut.

He said that he had just arrived on the front lines and had not yet participated in actual combat.

“I was just fighting for my freedom,” he said in an interview with Lviv Media. “I have no other choice. If I don’t go there, I will have to live the rest of my life in this colony.”

At the time of publication of this article, it was unclear whether Oleg Pyatykh and other Russian POWs described in this article were still in Ukraine.

As the war continues, prisoners of war will continue to be held in both Ukraine and Russia.

Lieutenant Stanislav Trutnev was not sure whether he would be able to return home.

“The question is whether we will go back or not,” he said, explaining that some inmates have been waiting for a swap for more than a year.

“Some were simply left off the list. Some people said I was left off the list,” he explained.

In a war prison in Lviv, Ukraine, near the Polish border.

From the outside, it doesn’t look like a prison. The high cement walls surrounding the property match similar gates and gardens throughout the small community in western Ukraine, a few dozen miles from the Polish border.

But the camp inside was filled with Russian prisoners of war in identical dark blue jumpsuits decorated with the words “Educational Colony” stamped on the back.

The men sleep in large rooms with bunk beds covered with checkered blankets, each space labeled with the name and photo of the occupant. A fixed schedule divided their time in the formerly low-security local jail – 6 a.m. wake-up calls, regular meals, and free time in the yard or in front of the TV in the entertainment room.

“We have nothing to hide there and you can see that the conditions are very good,” said Petro Yatsenko, spokesman for Ukraine’s Coordination Center for the Treatment of Prisoners of War.

Prisoners of war constitute a unique class of people whose freedoms are severely limited but who have more rights than regular prisoners. Ukrainian military officials in charge of running the facility are adamant that they comply with all aspects of the 1949 Geneva Conventions, which outline special rules for overseeing the treatment of prisoners of war.

Most importantly, the law stipulates that prisoners of war “must at all times be treated humanely” and “protected, especially against acts of violence or intimidation as well as insults and public prying.” they.”

Inside the prison, prisoners search for Coca-Cola and Snickers candy bars in a small room, the monotony broken by calls to their families in Russia, but of course they are monitored and called. to relatives in Russia several times a month.

A tall, thin prisoner with short-cropped hair and bright blue eyes was bending over the table, nimbly folding a paper bag before placing the finished product on a pile.

He is Vitayi, 33 years old, and his colleagues are busy packing bags for a large and famous Ukrainian company that outsourced this work to the camp.

Thousands of bags in various stages of production were stacked around the cluttered room as a few dozen inmates chatted in their overcrowded workplace.

Inmates are not required to work, but can choose to participate in the program to fill their free time.

They earn “a quarter of a Swiss franc for a full day’s work”, in compliance with the Geneva Convention, or about 29 US cents per day at current exchange rates.

The men at this camp could choose this assignment or choose to make patio furniture in another workshop.

Vitayi is from Donetsk and joined the Russian infantry in 2014 after the Maidan protests began in Kyiv. As a coal miner trying to support a wife and young child before becoming a soldier, he said he believed the stories that Russian propagandists of the time promoted about Kyiv preparing to attack the region . He signed up with a Russian recruiter when asked to defend the Russian homeland and his family.

Captured at the end of 2023 near the small town of Avdiivka – which was just completely captured by Russian troops at the end of February 2024 – on the eastern front of Ukraine after being wounded in an attack at the end of last year, Vitayi almost seemed to refrain from speaking negatively about his experience in the Russian army, but said his unit had to buy a lot of its own equipment and the last of his equipment.

The pay is very little, and sometimes never come. His arrest and subsequent treatment by the Ukrainian military were “fine,” he said.

His history reveals the complexity of identity for many people in the Ukrainian regions bordering Russia. Born in the Soviet Union, raised in Ukraine and fought for Russia: Vitayi said that his father was Russian and therefore he always saw himself that way.

Vitayi can’t wait to get home to his loved ones but doesn’t know when he might be selected for a prisoner exchange.

He said he had been at the camp for almost a year. And he feared being drafted into the army and forced to return to Ukraine again after he finally arrived home.

About 10 men lined up outside the phone booth, where they were allowed to make biweekly calls to relatives in Russia. Calls are broadcast on speaker so a nearby guard can monitor them.

One prisoner’s wife could be heard sobbing on the line as her husband first told her he had been arrested and was being held in Ukraine. “They lied to me. But it’s okay. I’ll call you when I’m in Russia,” the man said, wiping away tears while trying to reassure his wife.

Zanda, 40, was waiting at the end of the line. He was captured outside Kherson after serving as a medic and infantryman for more than four months. Originally from the autonomous region of the Republic of Kalmykia in southern Russia, Zanda is a Buddhist from the Kalmyk Mongolian ethnic group who migrated from northern China to the region centuries ago.

He was recruited from a prison cell after serving one year of a three-year sentence – ironically, he had been a prison officer-prison nurse- before being arrested for accepting prisoner bribes.

He said he joined the military because recruiters told him his remaining sentence would be commuted, but also because they promised to expunge his criminal record after he completed his sentence. into duty, which he wanted so that his criminal history would not hinder his children’s future.

Several men told similar stories: A military recruiter came to their prison, where they were serving a sentence for theft, bribery, murder or other crimes, with an offer of a reduced sentence in exchange for six months of fighting in Ukraine.

Zanda is a father of three, and his oldest is about to turn 18. He said he was afraid his son would be drafted into the army, but knew there was nothing he could do from the POW camp.

Without his family, he said that even if the war ended, he would not return to Russia. “I was afraid they would discriminate against me because I was a prisoner of war or enlisted again,” he said.

Both Russian and Ukrainian prisoners have accused each other of being mistreated while being arrested and detained.

It is understandable that when released back to their home country, prisoners of war must speak ill of the other side, because otherwise they will be accused of “sympathizing with the enemy.”

Captured Russian military officers are mostly kept separate from non-commissioned officers, in compliance with international law.

Captured Russian women were also placed in different wards, Prison officer Yatsenko said, although the facility has had only one case of female prisoners of war since last year.

He said the Ukrainian army treated Russian prisoners of war well in the hope that the Russian army would do the same to Ukrainian prisoners of war in their care.

“In Ukraine, a European country, we humanely hold prisoners of war – despite the fact that they – Russia – are trying to kill us,” Yatsenko said.

He had lunch with journalists in the prison dining room, a meal cooked and served by inmates. Despite their generous size, all the dishes were missing one important ingredient: salt.

Yatsenko explained that this unpleasant policy was for the health of prisoners of war, who could suffer from a range of digestive diseases, aggravated by excess salt while behind bars.

“Can I joke?” Yatsenko asked.

“This is revenge for Bakhmut,” he said with a grin, referring to the city now occupied by Russia in eastern Ukraine.

If it is true that Ukrainian prisons reduced the amount of salt in the food rations of Russian prisoners of war, then it would be a very unpleasant story of revenge, indeed an abuse more terrible than the beating of prisoners.

How can you eat food without salt? ///


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